


The People Next Door

by mysticanni



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Bonding, Brothels, Espresso Martinis, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Neighbors, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28901094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: John gets to know one of his neighbours.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 18
Kudos: 28
Collections: Joger Week 2021





	The People Next Door

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Neighbours AU

Mrs Delaney cornered John on the stairs when he wearily trailed home from his shift at the coffee shop. “Have you met the latest person in flat two?” she asked. The word “person” definitely had quotation marks around it, John thought, as if Mrs Delaney suspected that whatever was currently residing in flat two it certainly wasn’t a human.

“I’ve heard them,” he muttered.

Mrs Delaney nodded, “I’ve contacted the council’s noise pollution team,” she informed John briskly, “and they’ve advised any of the neighbours who are troubled by the noise to keep a diary of incidents. We can call the police of course or the council’s night-time noise monitoring team.”

Flat two had only been re-occupied for three weeks.

It had been a very long three weeks, however, John conceded and he found himself thinking Mrs Delaney was to be applauded for her prompt action to combat this noisy menace. “What kind of data is required for the diary?” he asked, “The time and the type of noise?”

Mrs Delaney nodded. “Yes, the date, the time, the type of noise and how long it lasted for.”

John snorted. “All night last night,” he sighed. “In fact, they seem to be noisy around the clock.” If the resident of flat two was human then they apparently didn’t require sleep. Unlike John.

“You poor dear,” Mrs Delaney clucked, “You work so hard too. Don’t you worry, love, we’ll get rid of the inconsiderate bastard.”

She swept off downstairs leaving John feeling slightly shocked by hearing that kind of language from a sweet little old lady. The sweet little old lady who was campaigning to have his new noisy neighbour evicted which, to be fair, John intended to help her with. 

He could hear the pounding beat of the music as he entered his flat. He lived above flat two. The music had started pretty much the instant the new tenant had moved in. John had not thought he would miss the previous occupant who had played the piano at surprising times of the day and night. But he had played well and the music had been less jarring than this constant muffled thumping. It had not gone on all day and all night either which already seemed to be the pattern for the new occupant.

John had heard shouting and crashing about suggestive of a violent scuffle since the new tenant – or tenants presumably – had moved in. He had wondered if he ought to call the police. Was this domestic violence? 

He had repeatedly gone downstairs - often in the dead of night - and had tried knocking at the door so he could politely ask them to turn the music down and hopefully also bring them to their senses regarding the sounds of aggression but no one had answered. They might not have been able to hear him over the loud music, of course. 

John felt as if his flat was vibrating with the sound. He had resorted to sleeping with ear-plugs in which he hated doing but had still been aware of the muffled thump-thump-thump of the music blaring out below. 

He had felt himself nodding off during his lectures earlier in the day and had felt sluggish during his shift at the coffee shop. Since the new people had moved in he felt constantly on edge in his own home – forced to listen to someone else’s music constantly.

The cat, Blanche, looked reproachfully at him as if he had failed her by not stopping this racket. “They’re noisy fuckers, aren’t they Blanchey,” John murmured, stroking her soft pure white head. “Don’t you worry - I have great faith in Mrs Delaney’s ability to get them kicked out.”

*

He was awakened – having managed to doze off around three a.m. – by raised voices on the stairs. Miraculously the music seemed to have stopped. The voices echoing round the stairwell seemed muffled and John thought for a heart-stopping second he had gone deaf (in one way that would be welcome if it meant he would no longer be bothered by his new neighbours but mostly that would be a dreadful loss) then remembered the earplugs and extracted them from his ears.

Blanche was curled up on his bed but her head was raised and she was clearly also listening to the row happening beneath them. Had someone complained? Had the police arrived? John crept to his front door and opened it a fraction keeping the safety chain on.

“...brothel, darling,” a voice was insisting, “Is this part of the fun? You pretend you don’t know what we’re talking about?”

A loud deep voice shouted that the first speaker, “And all your fairy friends can just fuck off! This is not a brothel!”

“Methinks you do protest too much, sweetie,” another very deep voice said. “Don’t play hard to get,” the speaker continued, “Let me in. Let us in. Show us a good time.”

A chorus of voices agreed to this. “I’ll call the police!” 

“Will you, darling,” John thought this was the very first voice he had heard, “Will you really call the police?”

“Oi! Hey! You can’t just come in here...” the loud deep voice that John now thought might belong to one of his new neighbours objected.

John hurriedly returned to his bedroom and pulled on his jeans and a jumper. He made sure he had his keys in his pocket and crept out onto the staircase to peer down through the banisters to see if he could get a better idea of what was happening. It sounded like his new noisy neighbours were having a hard time which was frankly fine by John. 

He halted when he realised there was someone else on the staircase, sitting on the top step, peering through the banisters. The door to flat five – opposite John’s flat – was slightly ajar. John had never met his thankfully peaceful neighbour from flat five so was not sure if the sweet looking blond sitting on the stairs was the occupant of that flat or not.

The blond looked up at him and smiled. “Mr Deacon isn’t it?” he whispered. “I’m Roger from flat five. Come to watch the show?”

“John, please,” John murmured and after a moment’s hesitation sat next to Roger-from-flat-five and peered through the stair railings with him. 

He could see a large number of people on the stairs steadily crowding their way into flat two. Some of the people looked intimidatingly muscular. There seemed to be a wide variety of outfits on display – most of them leaving very little to the imagination. “I told my friend Freddie that my new neighbour was troublesome,” Roger explained in a low voice, “so he’s got a gang of his mates to descend upon their flat telling the new people it’s known to be a brothel and demanding service. They won’t hurt anyone,” he assured John, “but we’re hoping it might make the new tenants keen to move on.”

John grinned at him. “Genius,” he said admiringly. 

“I’m afraid I can’t take any credit,” Roger told him, “And of course, we don’t know if it will work yet. I really hope it does, though. I know they’ve only been here a few weeks but I feel like I have a permanent headache.”

“Fingers crossed,” John said. 

Roger offered him coffee and John followed him into a flat that was the mirror image of his own flat. “Everything’s the wrong way round in here,” he joked. He reflected that Roger had been more creative with the space than John felt he had been. He had added splashes of colour to the white walls with artwork and had strings of fairy-lights twinkling everywhere.

They sat at Roger’s kitchen table sipping strong coffee. They could still hear raised voices from downstairs but John thought all the sounds were more muted in Roger’s kitchen.

John explained he was a student. Roger ran a clothing shop with his friend Freddie who had organised the disturbance downstairs. 

They heard the sound of lots of people going downstairs and leaving the building then heard a soft knock on Roger’s door. “That’ll be Freddie,” Roger predicted, getting up and going to answer the door. He returned a moment later with a slim dark haired man wearing skin-tight white trousers and a sheer white shirt. He had a yellow feather boa wrapped around his neck. “John, this is Freddie. Freddie, this is John from flat four.”

“Pleased to meet you, dear,” Freddie said, “Oh, you must be right above those horrors! How terrible for you! I do hope they’re packing their bags now.”

“Thank you for trying,” Roger said softly, “Even if it doesn’t work I hope they suffer from the sheer inconvenience of it! Was there any sign that one of them had been abused? I was a bit worried about all the shouting the other night.”

John was glad he had not been the only one worrying about one of the people in flat two. 

“Oh, they were certainly squirming, darling,” Freddie assured him. “I thought the one with the disgustingly matted beard was going to have a fit. And there’s no need to worry, dear, they all seemed thoroughly unpleasant and none of them seemed to be there against their will or being abused. I think if you heard them fighting it was probably just the primitive hideous way they interact with each other.”

“That’s good to know,” Roger said, “How many of them were there?”

“Four,” Freddie informed them, “Great ugly brutes, all of them. And they have appalling taste in music and decor,” he added with a shudder. “I do feel for you, John, dear. Still, hopefully they will leave of their own accord now.”

John excused himself. “I have to be up early tomorrow. Besides, the cat will be wondering where I am. It was good to meet you, Roger and you too Freddie.”

“You have a cat!” Freddie’s eyes lit up. “I love cats!”

So John found himself introducing Blanche to Freddie and Roger in the middle of the night. Blanche regally allowed them to make a fuss of her. 

When John was alone once more in his flat he was pleased to find that it was all quiet just as he liked it. He hoped it would last. 

*

A few days later John met the landlord of flat two leaving the building as he entered it. The landlord looked harassed. “Oh, Mr...Flat four, isn’t it?”

“John,” John said simply, “And yes.”

“Do you know if anything happened in flat two?” the landlord asked, running a hand through his already messy hair. “The new tenants have just upped and left. They’ve trashed the place too.”

John made appropriately sympathetic noises while privately thinking it served the landlord right for putting such anti-social tenants into the flat in the first place. “There was some kind of ruckus on Friday night,” he informed the landlord, “Something about them using the place as a brothel?”

As he climbed the stairs to his own flat he smiled broadly at the look of horror on the landlord’s face. He smiled even more broadly as the door to Roger’s flat opened and a blond head peered out. “I think they’ve gone!” Roger beamed at him, “Would you like to come in for a celebration coffee - or something stronger, perhaps?”

“That’d be lovely, thank you,” John grinned at him. 

Roger made espresso martinis. “Sort of coffee,” he said with a charming smile. 

“Better than coffee,” John grinned. 

*

John wasn’t sure where he was at first when he awakened the following morning. Then he remembered – far too many drinks with Roger – who was curled up next to him in this unfamiliar bed.

John realised with relief that he didn’t have any classes or work so he didn’t have to worry about what time it was. Roger stirred next to him and opened one eye – the blue of a perfect summer’s day. Roger bestowed a sleepy smile on John. “G’d morning,” he murmured. “You’re amazing,” he added drowsily. 

“Thanks,” John let himself stroke Roger’s luxurious hair. “You’re pretty fabulous yourself,” he told Roger with a grin. 

“Do you have important things you need to rush off and do?” Roger asked.

“No,” John shook his head. 

“Oh, good!” Roger’s face lit up, “It’s my day off! How nice, we can stay in bed all day!”

John laughed, “That sounds like a plan,” he agreed. 

“I’m not being too...People sometimes say I’m too...” Roger propped himself up on one elbow, “Too...forward? Is this too fast?”

John laughed, “I think I like forward,” he assured Roger, “If that’s what this is. And as the decision to end up in your bed last night was a mutual one I suppose I must be forward or fast or whatever too.”

“Oh, good,” Roger beamed. “I never thought I’d be thankful for having nuisance neighbours but I think they might have done us a favour!”


End file.
